The Silver Horn
by silverlynx7
Summary: Post Ootp.Harry works toward defeating Voldemort.Snape and Harry find out that they are father and son.Surprisingly,they get closer to each other.However,Harry still has secrets,secrets that take the form of four helpful spirits.Warning: some child abuse
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Even though you think that I came up with the characters of Harry Potter, I didn't.

The Silver Horn

Chapter 1

**A point in time and space**

The three Fate sisters stared dreamily at the four silvery figures before them. In one, monotonous voice they intoned, "Do you, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Griffindor, and Helga Hufflepuff agree to travel to your past world in order to train and aid one Harry Potter in defeating the evil Voldemort?"

"We do."

"And in doing so," the sisters continued, "do you agree to tell Harry Potter of his real parentage and bring him out of his current time to your own past time for one year to train him?"

"We do."

The Fates opened their mouths once more. "Do you agree to love and care for Harry Potter as it is necessary to defeat Voldemort?"

"Of course we do! What kind of people do you think we are!" Godric burst out, then covered his mouth as the oldest sister's unfocused eyes suddenly sharpened on him.

Salazar's mouth turned in a smirk.

"Then you, Founders of Hogwarts, put your hands together, and say _Spirito transportismo_!"

Four hands were clasped together as four mouths cried in one voice…

**The Dursley residence; a week after the beginning of summer vacation**

Sweat poured down his back as Harry Potter, resident boy wizard, crouched outside his relatives' home, trimming the hedges. His neck and face were neatly sunburned, turning a ripe red. His aunt had refused him the use of sunblock, claiming that Harry's work was not that hard, and he shouldn't need it. Harry rolled his eyes tiredly as he pictured his aunt's horse-like face set in a scowl.

"This summer's not going to be pretty," he thought to himself.

Due to problems at work, Vernon Dursley's temper had risen and his self-control had vanished. He often looked for a target to vent his anger on. Harry was small for his age, defenseless, and a useless burden to the family. Bingo!

His uncle had started to use Harry as his punching bag every night as he decided that Harry's work on his chores was always 'unsatisfactory.' Harry now sported a broken wrist, a dislocated shoulder, and numerous bruises on his body. Luckily his injured wrist and shoulder were both on his left side, so he was still able to work.

In addition, Harry's food rations had grown smaller and smaller. Dudley had been forced to diet when he went to school; so during the summer, he was eating everything in sight, gaining even more than before the diet. Aunt Petunia gave him as much as he wanted, claiming that his heavy bulk was still too skinny for her and that her baby had been starved. Harry, therefore, only got the leftovers of Dudley's voracious appetite, if there were any leftovers at all.

Coupled with his scant rations, Harry had also been experiencing vivid dreams, courtesy of Voldemort. He watched every night as families were tortured with repeated _Cruciatus_. He himself felt each _Cruciatus _cast, and thus often had shaking hands and limbs. Each night, he felt himself scream his throat raw. After each vision, he had Vernon's beating to look forward to. His uncle would hit him repeatedly, yelling "Shut up! You're the reason we never get any sleep around here! You freak!" Harry would then curl himself into a ball and try to get some sleep for the few remaining hours.

He missed Hedwig so much. He had forced Hermoine to take the snowy owl and told both her and Ron not to mail him because of his uncle. Hermoine looked at him and took the owl wordlessly, as if she understood.

As the sun slowly went down, Harry put his garden tools in the shed and went inside the house to wash the windows. He now looked as skinny as a scarecrow, emphasized by Dudley's enormous hand-me-downs. As he washed the windows, he thought of Sirius, falling through the veil. The first week after Hogwarts had been horrible; he had felt drowned in guilt, sadness, and anger. He blamed Dumbledore, Snape, himself most of all for being so stupid. But he soon realized that nothing would be helped by wallowing in self-pity, so he focused on one thing—revenge. He would take revenge for Sirius, for his parents, for Cedric, for the Longbottoms, and for all the other victims of Voldemort. Every night Harry practiced clearing his mind; it didn't seem to change his visions, but for now, at least it was something.

The sound of the back door slamming shut made his head jerk up in alarm. His green eyes stared in resignation as the familiar figure of a very angry Vernon Dursley stomped into the house. Harry smelled the strong scent of alcohol. 'Great. He's drunk.'

"Boy!" the oversized man bellowed. "Why haven't you finished the windows? You're lazy and incompetent! We give you a home, food, and clothing, and you can't even finish the chores!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right," he thought sarcastically, "Food and clothes."

The action angered Vernon, as his face turned a nice shade of purple. He stalked towards Harry, his hand upraised. Harry watched as a giant fist slammed into the side of his face.

"Don't roll your eyes at me freak!" Vernon yelled. "No one disrespects Vernon Dursley and gets away with it!"

His hand closed around the front of Harry's shirt—that is, Dudley's shirt. Harry felt himself being lifted slowly off the ground.

"Strange," said a voice in his head, "I never thought of him as being strong, and yet he's lifting me up effortlessly with one arm. But I guess I have lost a lot of weight this summer." He stared up into his uncle's crazed eyes, keeping his face emotionless.

He couldn't, however, keep a cry from ripping out of his throat as Vernon slammed him into the wall. He heard a crack as he felt his leg break. He slid to the ground, landing on his injured shoulder. Harry felt detached as he saw his uncle kick his ribs and stomach repeatedly. Everything was closing in on him. The last thing he felt was being dragged up the stairs and tossed into his room as Vernon yelled, "No supper for you tonight, freak!"

**A point in time and space**

"_Spirito transportismo_!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Even though I'm sure you think that I came up with the Harry Potter characters, I didn't.

The Silver Horn

Chapter 2

**Snape Manor; A week after the beginning of summer vacation**

Severus Snape was in heaven. He bustled about in his potions lab, busily concocting seven different healing potions at once. If a Hogwarts student could have seen him now, they would have thought that they were in the middle of a dream, or a nightmare. There was a smile on the Potions Master's face; a small one, but a smile nevertheless. The usual frown lines etched on his face were gone as he relaxed, making him look ten years younger. Snape always felt at home in any potions lab. He happily inhaled the strong fumes of brewing potions and the unique scents of different herbs. He loved listening to the soft sounds of bubbling concoctions and simmering mixtures. He also relished the challenge of making a difficult potion.

A sharp tap startled Snape out of his trancelike state. He looked up at the window with annoyance. A tawny brown owl hovered in the air, carrying an envelope. It tapped again on the window. Snape growled and yanked open the window. Like a book lover in the middle of an interesting read, the Potions Master hated being interrupted in the middle of a brewing. He snatched the letter from the owl as he grumbled something about horrid birds and bad manners. He tossed the letter on an empty table, and then went back to work. A soft smile crept back onto his face as he slowly stirred a green potion.

Hours later, Snape sat comfortably in the middle of his living room; potions book in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other.

"This is the life," he thought contentedly. "Blessed silence, no brats running around ruining potions…" He smiled.

The smile slipped from his face as he remembered the letter he had received.

"Bloody letter," he muttered, but stood up and set the book and mug on the table, walking to the potions lab to retrieve it.

As he walked back into the living room, he looked at the envelope more closely.

"The Potter crest?" he asked out loud, startled. He immediately thought of Lily. Was she alive? Did she send him a letter? He squashed the thought immediately.

"Lily's dead," he said firmly. He opened the envelope, took out the letter, and saw familiar flowing cursive writing. His eyes widened as he started to read.

_My dearest Severus,_

_If you are reading this letter, then I am most likely dead. Actually, I am most certainly dead, since I charmed this letter to go to you only if I wasn't alive. My charms haven't failed me yet. Severus, I am so sorry for leaving you that night, for not trusting you and hearing you out. I've always loved you and no one else; believe me if you will. James and I married only to protect someone, not out of love. But I will come back to that later._

_Severus, do you remember the night of our engagement, the night before you told me you were a Death Eater, the night before I ran from you?_

Snape snorted, but there were unshed tears in his eyes. Of course he remembered that night. What kind of person wouldn't remember that sort of happiness? Who did Lily think he was?

_Something happened that night, Severus. I found out two days after that I was pregnant._

Snape's mouth fell open, while his eyes widened.

_Close your mouth Severus._

His mouth snapped shut with a click. He scowled at the letter.

_A week later, Albus told me that you had been forced to be a Death Eater by your father, and you had become a spy for the Order. Severus, you don't know how much remorse I felt when Albus told me. I wanted to run back to you and cry a million apologies for the way I yelled at you. But when Albus told me that there was a prophecy about our son and that Voldemort was looking for it, I knew I couldn't go back to you. I had to protect our son. With you being a Death Eater, you could have been forced to tell Voldemort about our son at any moment or die trying to protect him. I couldn't do that to you, to us._

_Albus and I thus came up with a plan. James was included as well. He agreed to marry me and pretend that Harry was a Potter instead of a Sanpe, never dreaming that Voldemort would be after us as well._

Snape groaned softly. It couldn't be. It couldn't be what he was thinking.

_It's true, Severus. Harry Potter is really your son. I know there must have been much animosity between you two, since you had though he was a Potter. Forget about your past differences, Severus. Harold was the name of James's grandfather. Give Harry a new name, and call him your own. He is your son. Love him._

_I put a charm on Harry that made him look like James. It will wear off when he turns sixteen. I have not told him the truth because this is something that must be said in person. I trust that you, his father, will tell him; about my cowardice, about your courage._

_Severus, you were my first love and my last, my only love. I never loved James. Remember your love for me if you have forgotten, and give it to Harry. My dark angel, my life, my love, don't be sad that I am gone. I will always be watching over you. I will love you forever and always. _

_Love,_

_Lily_

_P.S._

_Don't ever forget how to love._

Severus was frozen in his seat, his eyes closed, as the letter slipped from his hands and fluttered slowly to the ground.

**Back to the Dursley Residence**

Godric, Salazar, Rowena, and Helga found themselves in the middle of bare room the walls were crudely whitewashed, while the only furniture was a small bed on which lay a thin, tattered sheet. A gasp from Helga startled the other three into looking where her frembling finger was pointing. A small, bloody figure lay prone in a corner of the room.

"Harry?" Rowena whispered, as the four rushed over to him. Both Salazar and Godric's fists were clenched as they watched Helga examine Harry's injuries.

"If I ever get my hands on that uncle of his…" Godric growled.

"Your hands will go right through him," Salazar said sarcastically, but there was a flicker of both anger and worry in his eyes.

Helga sighed, wringing her hands, "We have to take him back to Griffindor manor now. I need potions to heal this."

"But Helga," protested Rowena, "We haven't told him who we are yet, or where we're taking him."

"There's no time," Helga snapped, her eyes looking scared. "We need to hurry."

She held out her right hand, while her left hand lightly touched Harry. The others did the same, touching Harry with one hand, putting their other on Helga's.

"Picture Hogwarts," reminded Rowena.

Together they cried, "_Spirito Transportismo_!"

At 2:00AM in Albus Dumbledore's room at Hogwarts, a silent alarm went off, a red light pulsing gently. The wards at Pivet Drive were down. Dumbledore rolled over in his sleep, snoring lightly.

At 3:00AM, the red light flickered off; the wards had reappeared. The Headmaster slept on, oblivious to what had just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Even though I'm sure you think that I came up with the Harry Potter characters, I didn't.

The Silver Horn

Chapter 3

**Griffindor Manor; Founders' Era**

Helga Hufflepuff smoothed the covers over Harry, her facial expression oscillating between relief and concern. Rowena, Godric, and Salazar watched her anxiously.

"Will he be alright, Helga?" Godric asked worriedly.

Helga smiled tiredly. "He will be in some pain for awhile, but he'll be fine, physically at least. But emotionally," she sighed, "he will need a lot of love and reassurance."

Salazar stared at the pale face of the boy they had rescued. He had thought Harry would be somewhat pampered, due to being the famous boy-who-lived. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the sight that had met him nearly an hour ago. Perhaps there was more to this dark-haired boy than he originally thought.

A soft moan from the bed brought all focus back to the injured boy.

"Harry?" Rowena asked.

Harry opened his eyes wearily as he felt his whole body ache. He looked around him confusedly as a woman with auburn hair and gray eyes looked questioningly down at him. Where was he? This certainly wasn't the Dursleys'. A blond-haired and blue-eyed lady swooped over to stoop down to feel his forehead. He flinched slightly at the touch, remembering when Uncle Vernon used to grab his hair.

The lady frowned at his reaction, but smiled as she said, "Fever's gone down."

"Harry? You're awake!" A man with a cheerful voice called out. His hair was a sandy blonde while his eyes were a warm chocolate brown. He bounded over to Harry. Harry couldn't help a smile from splitting his cheeks. The man's wide grin was contagious.

Another man, dark-haired and hazel-eyed, said sourly, "No need to cluck over him like a mother hen, Godric."

Harry froze. Godric? "As in Godric Griffindor?" he wondered aloud.

"I see your mind is working, surprising though that may be," a voice said sarcastically. It was the dark-haired man whose cynical tone reminded Harry of Professor Snape.

"Now, now Salazar. No need to be nasty," scolded the blonde woman. "Hello Harry. I'm glad you're awake. I'm Helga Hufflepuff. This is Rowena," she pointed to the stern-faced redhead next to her, "and you already know Godric and Salazar."

"If you're wondering, Harry," said Godric, "we haven't founded Hogwarts yet. We're at Griffindor Manor at the moment."

Godric, Helga, and Rowena all smiled kindly at Harry. Salazar just sneered.

Harry's mind whirled. The Four Founders? Why was he here with them?

"For now, Harry, all you need to know is that you've been brought to train for one year to fight against Voldemort," Rowena said, noting his confused expression. When his expression turned to one of dismay, _Leaving his friends for one year?_, Rowena hastily added, "One year in our time, child, will be equivalent to one hour in your time. You will be returned one hour after you were taken." Harry looked much relieved.

"In addition," Salazar said, smirking in anticipation, "there is one thing you ought to know about your parentage."

"Salazar!" Helga exclaimed. "Shouldn't we wait until he is better? It's too soon to tell him!"

"Oh please," Salazar sneered, "There's no need to coddle the boy."

"Yeah," Harry interrupted, somewhat indignant. "Tell me. I feel all right."

"See?" Salazar sounded smug.

"Spare us Sal," Godric rolled his eyes. He turned to Harry. "If you're sure…"

"I am," Harry said solemnly.

"James Potter is not your true father," he continued quickly after glimpsing Harry's shocked expression. "Don't get me wrong; Lily was faithful to her husband, but James wasn't her husband. Potter was just part of a plan to protect you."

Harry leaned forward, his eyes wide, "Tell me. Who is my father?"

**Back to Snape Manor**

Snape sat, face impassive, as he watched Albus Dumbledore read Lily's letter. When the Headmaster finished and looked up at Snape, there was an amused twinkle in his eyes.

'There is nothing amusing about this situation!" Snape yelled, his mask dissolved. He sounded somewhat like a petulant child.

"I didn't say it was amusing," Dumbledore said calmly. "I merely thought it was interesting how you used to terrorize Harry on being exactly like his father, when you were actually saying he was like yourself."

Severus scowled. Albus could be really annoying sometimes. "Well, even if he isn't a Potter, the boy still is a spoiled, arrogant brat."

Albus sighed. "First, Harry is not arrogant. Second, after the Occulemency lessons, you of all people should know that he isn't spoiled."

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Whatever," he grumbled, knowing in his heart that Albus was right. "He's still an arrogant brat."

"You know that you will have to tell him, don't you? His appearance will start to change soon."

Severus froze. The black eyes that turned to meet the Headmaster's twinkling blue ones were hard and foreboding. "Albus, I forbid you to tell anyone about this."

"Severus, don't you think that he will start asking questions once he starts changing?" Albus asked.

"I. Don't. Care," Snape said, grinding his teeth together.

"Lily trusted you to tell him the truth. He has a right to know," Albus spoke again, trying to persuade the dark-haired man.

Snape's face turned blank. "Don't tell him, Albus. I'm serious."

"But, Severus—"

"Don't," Snape's voice was cold, but it included a hint of desperation.

Albus sighed again. "Alright, Severus," he threw up his hands in resignation.

Severus gave him a look of gratitude. Albus gave him a sharp look. "Only for now, Severus. For now."

**Griffindor Manor; Founders' Era**

"Snape is my father!" Harry yelled. "That slimy git? You're lying! I'm nothing like him!"

"Well, you certainly both have the same hot tempers, that's for sure," Salazar muttered.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. "It can't be! I won't be his son! I'm not the son of a Death Eater!"

"Harry!" Godric said sternly. The usual laughter in his eyes was slightly dimmed. "Professor Snape is a spy for the Order. He has risked his life many times. Have some respect. Also, you need to learn to control that temper of yours. Masking your emotions is definitely going to be one of the things you will learn here."

Harry lowered his head, shamed.

Rowena sighed. "If you don't control your emotions, Voldemort can easily possess you. Also, any Death Eater could tell what you were feeling and turn it against you."

"Harry," Helga said in a soft tone, "believe it or not, but you and Severus are very alike. You both like peace and quiet, dislike attention, have had abusive homes…"

The boy looked up, startled.

"Yes, boy. Despite what you think, you don't know everything about everyone," Salazar sneered.

"Salazar, shut up!" Godric yelled, giving him a glare. "Harry, Severus needs you, and you need him. And though it may not seem like it, under that cold façade of his, there is a heart inside you dear Potions Master." He grinned.

Harry snorted, but nodded slowly, digesting the new information. Before he could help himself, a wide yawn broke open his mouth. He reddened slightly as the four founders looked at him.

Helga pushed through the other three to get to Harry. "No more talking," she scolded. "I have an injured patient on my hands, and I won't have you talking all night." She looked at Harry and gave a gentle smile. "Go to sleep, little one."

Harry felt his eyes begin to close. Helga gave him a tight hug, and he relished in the comfort. The others, remembering Helga mentioning that Harry needed love and reassurance, followed her example. When Salazar's turn came, he looked desperately at Helga. She glared at him. He resignedly held out stiff arms. Harry, by this time, was too sleepy to think right. He wrapped two arms around the Slytherin, at the same time whispering a quiet "Thank you" to the four founders. Before he knew, it he had fallen asleep on Salazar's shoulder. His hand held a piece of his robe, while Salazar looked on helplessly; but he couldn't help feel a bit of his hard heart crack as he held Harry in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Even though I'm sure you think that I came up with the Harry Potter characters, I didn't.

The Silver Horn

Chapter 4

Harry Potter sat straight up in his bed, disoriented, heart-pounding furiously. As he sank back onto the mattress, the image of his purple-faced uncle, fist raised, flashed through his mind. He groaned softly, cold sweat dripping off his face.

Harry sat back up again as he heard footsteps pounding in the hallway. He turned to see the Four Founders running towards him worriedly. He moaned, then covered his face with his hands.

"Harry! Are you alright?" asked Rowena, looking into his face intently.

"Did I scream? I'm sorry for waking you up," he mumbled, "You can go back to sleep again. Just a nightmare."

Godric put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's alright, Harry. You didn't scream. We're all just light sleepers and woke to hear you rolling around in bed."

"What was your dream about?" Helga questioned. She frowned as Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"It obviously wasn't nothing," Salazar drawled, "if it made you wake up drenched in sweat."

Harry looked at his hands. "My uncle," he whispered. "Like I said, just a bad dream. At least it wasn't Voldemort."

Four pairs of eyes met simultaneously over the boy's bowed head. They communicated silent agreement to protect the boy from everything, though their hearts realized it wasn't possible.

"You aren't connected to Voldemort here, so no visions," Helga answered in a more cheerful tone.

Harry looked relieved, then murmured, "I'm sorry for waking you all up."

"For Merlin's sake," Salazar said sharply, "do you have to be so arrogant as to blame everything bad that happens on yourself?"

Harry's head snapped up; his eyes looked startled. Godric stifled a snort of laughter, tried to change it into a cough, and ended up choking. Salazar pounded him on the back while giving him a death glare.

"Maybe you should all go to sleep," Harry suggested, trying to steer the conversation away from him. "I'm kind of tired too."

Rowena looked at him suspiciously. His haunted eyes clearly stated that he wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon.

"Harry," Godric said, catching Rowena's surreptitious glance, "it's 6 o'clock already. Do you want to go downstairs to eat an early breakfast? We all usually wake up early anyways, and I'm sure you won't sleep a wink after this."

The black-haired boy hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Godric clapped his hands, grinning. "Tell the house elves to make breakfast."

As the group trooped from Harry's room, Salazar muttered, "Must you always be so bloody cheerful, Griffindor?"

Harry felt like he was in heaven. He hadn't eaten well since the Hogwarts graduation feast. Each bite was a mouth-watering, scrumptious, juicy delight. He gobbled up the food voraciously, while the Founders watched him with amusement.

"Hungry, Harry?" Godric asked with twinkling eyes.

Harry paused, the fork halfway to his mouth, and gulped visibly as he glimpsed the eyes looking at him.

"Heh…sorry," he muttered. He ate a lot more slowly after that.

After Harry finally put down his fork, questions started to sprout in his mind. But right as he opened his mouth to speak, Helga said, smiling, "I suppose you have some questions to ask, Harry. Well, ask away."

Everyone grinned at his startled expression.

"Yeah, umm…" Harry stuttered. "Why do I have to train with you guys anyway? And how were you able to take me to your time?"

"Have you heard of the three Fate sisters?" Rowena asked.

Harry thought for a moment and remembered a shadow of the knowledge from a certain ghost of a professor. Something to do with the controlling of time. He nodded slowly. "A little."

"Well, they could see that if Voldemort defeated you, the world would die, so they had to make sure that you would have a chance in defeating him. That's where we come into the picture," Godric smiled.

"We're really spirits," Rowena said. "The Fates allowed us to take a solid form only when we take you into our time. They thought we would be the best mentors for you."

"Bunch of crazy old women," Salazar muttered.

Godric grinned, "I totally agree. But anyways, here we are!"

Harry looked stunned. He still couldn't process it all.

Taking one look at his confused face, Helga said kindly, "Don't try to understand it, Harry. Just know that we're here to help you."

Harry nodded. His face brightened somewhat. For the first time after he heard the Prophecy, he felt he actually had a chance in defeating Voldemort. "So what exactly are you going to train me in?"

"You are so going to love this!" Rowena said excitedly. Harry raised an eyebrow at the obvious out of character display from the witch.

Godric rolled his eyes, "Don't listen to her, she's a nut whenever it comes to learning."

Harry smiled, amused.

"Rowena will be teaching Transfiguration, History, and Animagus training," Godric grinned as Harry suddenly straightened. "Yes, thought you might like that one."

"Helga will teach you Herbology, Charms, and Healing," Godric continued. "Salazar—potions, occulemency, and Dark Arts."

"Not how to do Dark Arts, Snape," Salazar snapped, after seeing Harry's look of alarm, "but how to cast spells under the Unforgivables."

The boy looked slightly relieved. He suddenly widened his eyes in surprise at what the wizard had called him, then looked resigned.

Godric smiled slightly at him. "And I will be teaching you some wandless magic and Defense,"—here he cackled evilly—"which includes physical training."

"Oh joy," Harry muttered sarcastically, "I'm going to have such a fun time."

"I know!" Rowena exclaimed. "Isn't it exciting?"

This time, all the other three Founders rolled their eyes.

"So Harry," Helga asked, "Any other questions?"

"A couple, if that's alright," Harry answered. "This isn't my real appearance, is it?"

"No," Godric replied, searching Harry's face.

"I thought not," Harry said haltingly, "Is there any way to reveal what I really look like?"

The Four Founders looked surprised.

"I don't want to live a lie," Harry explained with conviction. "And," he added smiling, "at least I'll have a year to get used to it."

Salazar nodded approvingly. "Well, normally it would be hard to remove the charms before the caster meant for it to be removed."

Harry's face fell.

"But," Salazar said, "since Helga is such a master at Charms"—Helga blushed—"I'm sure it will be no problem."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Helga asked, looking at Harry intently. "There is some pain involved, more pain than if you would let the charms lift naturally."

Harry nodded his head slowly, and closed his eyes in anticipation.

"Well, here goes," Helga said a spell, and the dining room cleared, becoming empty. "_Veritas Revelo_!" she cried, waving her wand.

Harry felt spasms of pain enter his body. He gritted his teeth as he felt his bones stretching and rearranging themselves. He had to muffle a yelp when he felt a pressure on the back of his eyes. Finally, the pain ceased.

He heard someone whisper an incantation, then a soft thump. He opened his eyes to see only a blur. He took off his glasses to wipe them clean, but realized he could see perfectly without them.

"Bad eyes must run in the Potter family," he thought.

There was a full-length mirror in front of him. He peered into the mirror with some suspense and stared.

His hair was now soft and pure black, instead of the messy dark brown mess it had been before. His cheekbones were slightly higher and sharper, and his complexion was pale. There was no doubt he looked like a certain Potion Master. His nose was still Lily's, thank goodness. He looked down at his hands and noticed his fingers were long and slender. Then, he realized the he was higher off the ground than he used to be. He stared at the mirror in shock. He was now about 5 foot eleven, maybe even as tall as Ron. The most interesting part, though, was his eyes. While they had been an earthy green before, they were now extremely bright. An image of a bright green light shooting towards him flashed before him.

"The killing curse," he thought, somewhat disturbed. "My eyes are the color of the killing curse."

"Harry," Rowena said excitedly, "turn around!"

Harry turned. The others stepped back, startled, as they noticed his eyes.

"Cool eyes," Godric marveled.

A smile slowly spread across Harry's face as a thought registered in his mind. "I look nothing like Harry Potter," he said, stopping as he heard the sound of his voice. It was silkier, softer, and somewhat hypnotizing.

The Founders looked puzzled. They had thought he would be angry with looking like Severus Snape.

"You don't understand," Harry said, grinning. "I can now walk in the streets without being gawked at. I felt like a specimen before." He made a face.

Then he frowned. "Except for my scar. Is there a way to hide it? It would be great to be normal for once, even if it is until Hogwarts."

Helga smiled understandingly at him. "There is a spell you can use that escapes both physical and magical detection. I can show you how to cast it and remove it in one of your lessons if you want."

"Brilliant!" Harry shouted excitedly. "Thanks, err…Professor?" He wasn't sure yet what to call his mentors. Their first names seemed too disrespectful and Miss Hufflepuff was too stuffy.

"Professor's fine, Harry," Helga nodded, "since we're to be your teachers anyway."

"You look great," Godric said, laughing. "Except your skin's too pale." He smiled wickedly at him. "That can be fixed though. You'll be as brown as mud once you're through with me."

"Nice analogy," Salazar noted with the tilt of an eyebrow.

Harry groaned.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Even though I'm sure you think that I came up with the Harry Potter characters, I didn't.

The Silver Horn

Chapter 5

**Griffindor Manor; First Day of Training**

Harry walked side by side Godric Griffindor down to the Quidditch field for his first lesson.

"So what exactly is my schedule?" Harry asked curiously.

"You'll spend two hours a day with each of us, so eight hours of training in total per day," Godric answered cheerfully.

"Oh joy," Harry muttered.

Godric grinned. "Come on Harry. You'll have fun! Sure beats staying in that hellhole that was your home."

Harry's lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. Godric was so right.

"You'll have the rest of the time to yourself, after finishing your homework, that is," Godric chuckled at the boy's sudden sour look. _He really does look like his dear Potions Master when he does that_, Godric thought amusedly to himself.

"There's homework!" Harry yelped incredulously. "This is supposed to be summer!"

Godric smiled sideways at him. "There's always quidditch once you're finished with everything."

Harry's face snapped up, his bright green eyes glowing. "Really?"

"Really," Goddric affirmed, his eyes twinkling not unlike a certain Headmaster. "And brilliant seeker though you are, you're a little too tall now. Hmm…I'd bet you'd make just as great a chaser though. Perhaps I can teach you to kick ol' Sal's butt; he's a chaser as well…" he murmured thoughtfully.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you two…"

As they reached the pitch, Godric halted, took out his wand, and waved it in a certain pattern. The numbers 30:00 formed in the air. Harry stared at them puzzled.

"Alright, Harry, this is where the fun begins," Godric grinned widely. "Run ten laps around the manor. You have thirty minutes."

Harry's eyes bulged. "Around Griffindor Manor? Ten times! But that's almost five miles! You're house is huge!"

The Founder shrugged, a small smile on his face, "That's life, kiddo. You better hurry up. Each minute you're late is ten pushups. Times a' ticking." As Harry watched in mounting horror, the numbers in the air started to change. Very quickly.

"Why couldn't you have been poor?" he groaned as he jogged of amid the sound of Godric's evil chuckling.

…

By the time Harry finished his laps, he was exhausted. He was a few minutes late, so he was made to do pushups on top of his already groaning muscles. The next hour wasn't much better. He still wasn't allowed to use his wand. He was supposed to try to duck as the Founder shot different spells at him, both with a wand and wandlessly.

"This is so fun!" Godric crowed, as he blasted a jinx that changed Harry's black hair to a bright green, matching his annoyed eyes.

"Shut up."

…

After taking a quick shower, Harry headed off to the library, where Rowena was waiting.

"Have a good time?" she asked sweetly.

Harry made a face, grunting in reply.

Rowena smiled in amusement. "Well, hopefully Transfiguration will be easier on you physically. You were in your fifth year, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, I'll have to evaluate you first to see what you know, so take out your wand." She stood up to get some objects and a stack of papers.

"Whoopee, I actually get to use my wand," Harry muttered sarcastically.

"Godric's infamous dodging drill, huh?" Rowena asked sympathetically. She laughed as he gave a loud groan. "Right. Well, let's begin, shall we?"

Harry felt like his brain had been stuck in a blender after Rowena's examination. Rowena had shot question after question at him until he felt like he was back on the quidditch field again, ducking from Godric's barrage of spells. Then came the practical examination. Harry transfigured objects until his wand arm grew sore. When they both stopped for breath, Harry looked at Rowena's passive face in an unspoken question.

"Well, you aren't a natural, Harry," she said slowly.

Harry nodded, then commented wryly, "Professor McGonagall will be disappointed. She always wanted me to take after my fath—James Potter."

A slow smile spread across Rowena's face. "You'll probably never be a master, but I'll guarantee you that after I'm through with you, your dear Professor McGonagall won't be disappointed."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Even though I'm sure you think that I came up with the Harry Potter characters, I didn't.

The Silver Horn

Chapter 6

After a cheery lunch, Harry walked alongside of Helga to a room filled with healing potions and strange objects.

"So how's your day been so far?" asked Helga, with a smile on her face.

Harry stuck out his tongue in a panting motion. "But," he said with a sideways grin, "it's way better than the Dursleys!"

Helga stared straight at the boy and said solemnly, "What the Dursleys did to you wasn't right; you know that Harry, don't you?"

Harry looked down. "It wasn't that bad," he whispered, "Some kids have it worse."

"Harry…"

The boy didn't answer. Helga sighed, then reluctantly changed the subject. "So, you've done physical training with Godric, transfiguration with Rowena, and now it's on to the best subject of all—Charms!"

Harry lifted his head and laughed at the small witch's antics. "Another test?" he guessed.

"Yup!" Helga said cheerfully. "I'll give you some new spells to learn and see how fast you are able to learn them.

Harry groaned.

About what he thought was a million wand strokes later, Helga finally motioned for Harry to stop. She had a big smile on her face.

Harry looked at her questioningly.

"Well, you obviously inherited your mother's talent," she said brightly.

The boy smiled, then looked thoughtfully up at her. "How do you know my mum anyways?"

"I've seen her," the witch answered. "No, not physically, but we spirits can see the past and…the future."

Harry's eyes widened. He leaned forward as he whispered, "Do you know what will happen? Will I defeat Voldemort?"

Helga shook her head. "No, my child. I see many futures, but I do not see _the _future."

Harry's eyebrows knitted together.

"There is a future where Voldemort is killed by you, and all is well. There is another one where Voldemort prevails. And another where Voldemort dies but the world is in ruins. I have no way to tell which future will actually come to be. I'm sorry."

Harry nodded slowly. "I can understand that."

"That is why the Fates have asked us to train you. So the best possible future can come true."

"What was my mum like?" Harry asked abruptly.

Helga looked at the boy tenderly. "She was bright and cheerful, but had a temper that came and went quickly. One minute her eyes would be shooting sparks and she would be yelling; the next, she would be smiling, as calm as can be."

Harry listened, his eyes never leaving the witch's face.

"She was the smartest witch at Hogwarts, witches and wizards combined. But, she had a dry wit and sarcasm that rivaled the Slytherins'. She could definitely be cunning if she had to be. The dark humor often came up when she was with Severus Snape."

Harry sat silently, then asked softly, "Did they really love each other?"

Helga smiled, "They were very much in love."

"Do I look like her?" he questioned.

Helga laughed, "You do, but you definitely have your father in you also."

Harry jokingly made a face.

"Your eyes, though, they are brighter than hers. I would guess that your power is greater. Power can manifest itself in eyes. Lily probably blocked some of your power so that you would be less like Severus. Your father is very powerful, you know."

"I miss her," he whispered, eyes bright, but face devoid of emotion.

"I know," Helga said softly, then came to wrap her arms around him. "I know."

Harry closed his eyes as he felt the Founder's embrace. The hurt in his heart eased a little. It was almost as if his mother was holding him. Almost.

Harry stepped into the potions lab, his eyes roaming around, looking for the Founder.

"Snape." A voice said crisply. A man walked out of the shadows. Salazar.

He nodded curtly to Harry and pointed. "The instructions are on the board. Begin."

He sneered as Harry just stood there. "Are you deaf, boy?"

Harry flinched at the old name.

Salazar's voice softened a little. "Brew the potion, Snape. Go on; we don't have all day."

Harry nodded, then walked over to a table. He looked back at the Slytherin, who had walked to his desk. Salazar raised one eyebrow, but made no move to get up and watch Harry's efforts. The boy reddened and started to gather ingredients.

Harry stirred the potion once more counterclockwise, then took the cauldron to Salazar to be inspected. He reluctantly admitted to himself that potion making wasn't so bad. Without constantly watching for Malfoy's pranks and Snape's bat-like form swooping over him at every moment, he felt surprisingly relaxed as he worked. He even felt the faint stirrings of "like" toward potion brewing. What horror!

He placed the cauldron gently on Salazar's desk. The Potions Master took a small whiff of Harry's potion. He looked at the color and stirred it to study its texture. He frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. Harry's heart sank.

"The potion is supposed to be lime green," the Founder said sternly, echoing Harry's previous doubts.

"I know." Harry whispered softly, his head down. He was a failure at potions, no matter who his father was. The calm, peaceful feeling that had come over him before vanished.

"However," Harry's head snapped up, "your potion skills are acceptable, and I believe they can be improved."

Harry looked at the man incredulously.

"Yes," Salazar smirked, "You are definitely better than what your father made you out to be. I looked into his mind earlier to see what I could discover of your previous potion skills. Although he is a competent Potions Master, he did not teach you the basics well. I suppose he assumed that all his students grew up in a magical home, already knowing the more obvious facts about potions. Rather stone-headed of him I might say."

"Hey!" Harry uttered without thinking. "That's my father you're insulting!" His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said, then clapped his hand over his mouth.

Salavar's mouth twitched slightly in amusement. "Out with you, brat. Helga will have my hide if you're late to dinner."

Harry shuffled awkwardly on his feet, muttered a "Thanks," and scurried out of the room.

"Yes," the Founder said softly. "I rather think I can make a fine Potions Master out of you yet."

Dinner was a comfortable affair. The Founders chatted amongst themselves, occasionally bringing Harry into the conversation.

Harry, though, was content to just sit and stare at the food. There were so many choices. He felt as if he were in a dream. It was about a million steps up from what he had at the Dursleys'. Scratch that; he didn't even get food at the Dursleys'.

"Harry, are you just going to look at the food, or are you actually going to eat it?" Godric asked, eyes laughing.

Harry flushed and ducked his head. He would save thinking about the Dursleys for later.

After dinner, the five sat on couches in the Gryffindor's living room. A fire was crackling gently in the hearth. They all sat reading different books in a comfortable silence.

Helga looked at the boy as he slowly nodded off to sleep. He looked so childlike with his face relaxed and without worries. So many people expected so much out of him, yet he was only a boy, a boy who craved a normal life. She glanced at the others.

"Let him sleep," Rowena said softly, echoing the thoughts of the other Founders. They all felt like they wanted to preserve this sense of peace forever.

Godric smiled fondly at the Harry. He had only known the boy for a day, yet seeing his past courage and perseverance before meeting him made him feel as if he had known the boy forever. There was a protective urge that rose in him every time he looked at Harry.

Salazar gave a sudden cough, breaking the silence. He scowled, faintly blushing, as the other Founders looked him questioningly.

"Way too much sappy emotion in the room," was all he muttered.


End file.
